Pick Some Wildflowers Saturday, Jul 5 2008

So hold your head up high and know it’s not the end of the road. Walk down this beaten path before you pack your things and head home. At the end of the road, you’ll find what you’ve been longing for.

One thing I have learned is that it’s more lonely to walk this road of life with a huge group of people, than it is to share it with one person who means the world to you. I’ll save you. Your breath, time, finger muscles and tell you that you won’t compare to him. I care about him so much that I can’t even begin to describe it. He is my best friend and my everything. Every moment spent with him is another moment I truly appreciate life. If you try pulling me away from him, you will see me pulling myself away from you.

Find a wide-open field to frolic in today. Pick some wildflowers and bring them to a vase on your kitchen table. Small things can bring a great deal of sunshine and hope to a stagnant situation. Try your best to clear your mind of unnecessary clutter and open it up for new possibilities to enter.

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The Best Advice Monday, Jun 16 2008

From Andrew:

“Don’t hold someone in your heart that you can’t hold in your arms.

Letting go doesn’t mean you have to stop loving someone, or that you gave up,
it means that you understand that life goes on with or without him/her.”

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Think About It Sunday, Jun 8 2008

- You pass me on the street and sneer in my direction. You call me “Cracker”, “Honkey”, “Whitey” and even “The Man” and you think it’s ok, but when I call you “Nigger”, “Kike”, “Towelhead”, “Sand-Nigger”, “Dune Coon”, “Camel Jockey”, “Beaner” or “Chink” you call me a racist.
- You say that whites commit a lot of violence against you, so why are the ghettos the most dangerous places to live?
- You say that you want to make a change in this country. How? By protesting everything that we believe in? By trying to change everything that has made this country run fine for centuries?
- You have Martin Luther King Day. You have Cesar Chavez Day. You have Yom Hashoah. You have Cinco de Mayo. You have Ma’uled Al-Nabi. You have BET. If we had WET (white entertainment television) we’d be racists.
- If we had a White Pride Day you would call us racists.
- If we had white history month, we’d be racists.
- In the Million Man March, you believed that you were marching for your race and rights. If we marched for our race and rights, you would call us racists.
- You enjoy the thought of Driver’s Licenses for illegals. We enjoy the thought of people obeying the laws of the land in which they reside. No negotiations.
- You are proud to be black, brown, yellow and orange, and you’re not afraid to announce it, but when we announce our white pride, you call us racists.
- You call each other “niggas”, and in doing that you’re saying its ok and that it doesn’t offend you, but when we say it, its racist.
- You rob us, carjack us, and shoot at us, but, when a white police officer shoots a black gang member or beats up a black drug-dealer running from the law and posing a threat to society, you call him a racist.
- You can have Hispanic clubs and Africans American clubs, but we couldnt even think of starting a white club without there being controversy.”

I am white. I am proud, but, you call me a racist. Why is it that only whites can be racists? Why should white people respect black people, if the black people can’t respect white people? That goes for every other race, also. I don’t get it.

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Get Hella Playful Sunday, Jun 8 2008

“Play is a process often misunderstood and shunted aside as ‘idle’ in today’s world of incessant television, premature lessons, and impatient parents. Play is a child’s work. Play is the child’s own time to pull together and integrate all of the experiences she/he is bombarded with everyday. It is her/his time to feel adequate, powerful, bossy, in control, fearless, and emotional, to compensate for the inadequate feelings the real world gives her/him. Play is rehearsal time - a practice time to try out ideas, investigate how things work, experiment with feelings, take on different roles, be in charge, and see what feels good. It is her/his time to be on the initiating, assertive end of things rather than at the passive receiving end. When a child can control something her/his fears are lessened. When she/he can loosen and unleash all of her/his feelings, she/he will more comfortably temper her/his feelings around grown-ups. When she/he can be messy, disorderly, and rude for awhile, then she/he can more easily accept those sociably acceptable way in the family and public life. In Play, the child can best experience herself/himself as a whole person.”

by Mary Clagett Smith.

I can’t help, but think about how everyone knows someone who is constantly ranting about how she/he needs to change to figure him/herself out. I propose an idea:

Go back to the roots
and get hella playful.

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From Your Drunken, Dusty Ray Friday, Jun 6 2008

“God save the world, it doesn’t believe me. Fuck the smiles on their faces, because it hurts just to open my eyes. I have to swallow my pride just to breathe, and I don’t care about anyone. I don’t care about this monopoly for life - tell me when to jump and I will. No chance to vindicate my selfish ways back to a feeling a little sane. My father took his steps and he lies in his bed, because he made it and now I’m right next to him, because I don’t think that anything is worth it. This is because I don’t think in the first place.

If I sit alone forever, I won’t hope for anything, because the regret on your lips still stings - its permanent and irrevocable. Kill me as you will and fuck me as you should, but I won’t hope for anything except for nicotine and things that put me here in this position. I’m bringing this world down with me and I hope we all burn in hell together. Its a jealous dance to proclaim what we have become - nothing and everything all at once.”

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So, this is how it feels? Wednesday, May 21 2008

Its the last day of school for me. Not until the summer is over, last day for good. Last day of my senior year in high school. Scott is sitting to my left, writing in my yearbook. George and Seth are to my right, playing games (like that’s anything new). Jason is across the room, ignoring me like he has for the past month and a half. Brandon is behind me, still annoying, I won’t miss that voice at all. All in all…nothing is different right now, its pretty chill. I’m still on wordpress like I have been consecutively for the past three and a half months. Not a whole lot happening.

So, George just made me watch Charlie the Unicorn and I’m pretty sure my IQ dropped at least 50%…at least. And George is totally drawing a picture of the creepy slug looking thing with the santa hat and fake eyelashes in my yearbook…that’s a memory worth remembering, hahahaha…ha…haha…ha! *sticks out tongue* (this is the point in time where Scott and I look like we’re on crack trying to figure out how to spell the sound the annoying unicorns make when they stick they’re tongue out) not working…bluhp!

Bluhp…bluhp bluhp bluhp…bluhp…

BLUHP!

Yep, no more school for me. Damn.

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The Danger In Starting A Fire Wednesday, May 14 2008

I noticed that, lately, I’ve been starting most of my blogs with song lyrics…or getting inspired for the blog from song lyrics. Its funny, because generally, the title of the blog is a different song than the lyrics actually in the blog, haha. Anyways, Its because I’ve been at a (bit) of a writer’s block. I’ve needed help striking up thoughts. Its almost pathetic, really. I think a lot, but lately, I can’t put anything into words and my blog has been empty. I’m not diggin’ it too much. I have some thoughts…and here’s my attempt to put something into words…and song lyrics, of course.

It’s Monday morning and I would kill for a chance to drive -
get so far away from here, with you my dear, then I’ll never leave your side.

- I’m so sick of this place. Where I live, where I sleep, where I work, where I walk, talk, think, run, drive, learn, everything and everyone. I live in the kind of place where everyone knows everyone, somehow. Its ridiculous - the amount of people I meet who know someone else I know - from yesterday, two years ago, everyone fucking knows everyone! I can’t get away from all the bullshit I need to get away from. I have way to much of a bullshit past with this bloody place and I just need to get away. Everyone keeps telling me that I’ll miss it here, I’ll miss my family, I’ll miss my friends. Yeah…ok. I’ve left this place plenty of times, I’ve been away from my family plenty of times, and there’s not a huge list of people here that are a good friend to me, they’re more or less just acquaintances that really, I could care less if I ever saw again. Everytime I’ve been away from it all, I was the best I’ve ever been and I absolutely loved it. I don’t like this place, I will go nowhere here. I’ve been to bigger and better places, why would I miss it? My family, sure, I’ll miss them from time to time, but I’m not close enough to them to miss them all the time when I leave. I’d be perfectly content talking every once in awhile and coming back once a year, or so. That’s it. And friends? Ha. There’s two or three that I truly give a shit about here (I can totally see people lurking my page and questioning the entire friendship I “have” with them, now…haha, bring it). And my best friend? She doesn’t even live here. She lives over a thousand miles away. Any other people I consider close friends, don’t live here, either. Really, the only people I give any shit about here anymore is Ian and his best friends, who are like family to me - Drew, Mike, Chaz - these guys are like the big brothers I can actually count on. What big brothers are supposed to be. The ones who actually look out for me (sorry Chris and Kyle, but you’ve never proven anything. I know you’re there, but you’ve never actually been there). I just can’t wait to leave and start MY life, not everyone else’s life. Its such bullshit. I’m done.

Miles away, and I wish this didn’t mean so much to me.

- Why do I continually keep giving a shit about people and things that are miles and miles away from me? People I may never talk to again, things I may never see again. That’s how I live my life, lately, well…kind of always have. I don’t care about the things in front of me, I care about the ones that I only see through pictures. Why do these things mean so much to me? I kind of have an idea, but then again, there’s probably only a few solid, legit things I’ve ever said. My idea, I’m so drawn to the fact that I can almost get out of here. These people and things that already have, are my inspiration. I hang onto them, as if I’m tied to a long rope attached to both myself and these things, and perhaps they’ll pull me out, too, sooner or later. Really, though, if the people mentioned above (the Monday Morning paragraph) didn’t want to or couldn’t leave this place, neither would I. They are the only things that could keep me here. The only things. I mean, I can stay here and make a life and be happy with it, I just know it wouldn’t be the life I’ve dreamt of. But, I guess, who ever really gets the life they dream of? Really, the only things I want are my own family - growing up different than I did - some place new and working a job I’m passionate about. I can’t really work that job and make a life of it where I am, now. And I’m definitely not staying at Cold Stone for the rest of my life, fuck that. If I had to stay, though, I’d be happy anyways as long as it was with people I care about.

We’re getting older and I’ve started to fear for my life.
Is this the way that it should be? This whole thing’s riding on me.
It’s been a long road, so far, with nowhere to turn.
There’s no looking back from here, no more dwelling on my fears.

- I have six days of actual school left. Four and a half if you count the days I actually have to be here. And eight days left if you count all the days in general. So that, and graduation is in fifteen days. Really, I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to do. I’m scared shitless of it, actually. I’m getting older and the older I get, the more scared I get. The more excited, too, but I’m still terrified. I’m not scared because I have no plan, I’m scared because its actually happening. I’m terrified, though. This entire thing - graduating, the real world, starting a life, finding love - its what I’ve been looking forward to for as long as I can remember. Since I was a little kid…its all happening, finally. Its so much closer than I’m prepared for…and I’m absolutely terrified, honestly. I’ve been putting up a front this entire time to everyone - saying I’m not scared, that I’m ready, that I’m excited, that I know what I want to do, everything. That’s such bullshit. I’m scared, I’m not ready, I’m very excited, and I have no idea what I want to do. I mean, wanting to start a life  and move out of this place is one thing, but other than that, I mean I don’t know what I want to do with the rest of my life. I don’t know if I want to go to college, I don’t know what I want to do as a career. I don’t know any of that. Absolutely no idea. I keep bouncing back and forth through ideas and I’m not one to just pick and do it. I have to have a set plan, cause I won’t commit myself to something I’m not 100% sure about. I just can’t do it. Its been such a long, hard road for me. You have no idea. I’ve dealt with some of the biggest bullshit and I’m ready to move on from it. The only reason I’m not scared of any of this, is because I know I’m that much closer to where I want to be, wherever that is. Once I’m done and starting a life, I’ll never look back on any of this. Everyone keeps telling me to live my life, not make plans for a relationship, and that I’ll end up wishing I was back in high school. The thing is, I’m different than most people. You hate black cats, I’m in love with mine. Walking under a ladder gives you bad luck, it gives me good luck. Your hair fries from being dyed too much, mine gets softer. Those are just random…but you get the general point. You love high school and you live for prom, I could give a shit less. I don’t even care about graduation, I just want to be done.

I’m just ready to move on. Grow up some more and get on with it. Start making some legit decisions, the time’s finally calling for it. I’ve put off making decisions for the longest time, and now its catching up with me.

Here we go.

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Heaven’s Not A Place That You Go When You Die Wednesday, May 7 2008

There’s three, count ‘em - three - children playing on the beach.
They were eager to learn, to be taught, and to teach.

There’s Veronica;
she’s biting her lip as she watches the waves turn white at the tip.

There’s Vaida;
radiating with joy, and luckily she still can’t stand the sight of a boy.

And lastly, there’s Dade;
his hair dances in the wind, and he’s wondering what love is and why it has to end.

He can’t understand how everyone goes on breathing when true love ends.
His mother whispers quietly;

“Heaven’s not a place that you go when you die.
It’s that moment in life when you actually feel alive.”

So live for the moment.
Take this advice, live by every word, love is just a hoax,
so forget anything that you have heard and live for the moment, now.

 

 

There’s three, count ‘em - three - children growing on the beach.
They were eager to learn, to be taught, and to teach.

There’s Veronica;
she’s licking her lips, as she waits for her real, first passionate kiss.

There’s Vaida;
she can’t admit her jealousy of her sister, Veronica, and how she’s so pretty.

And lastly there’s Dade;
still sitting on the dock, he ponders his life, and he skips his rocks and he wonders when his father will return, but he’s not coming back.

He can’t understand how everyone goes on breathing when true love ends.
His mother whispers quietly;

“Heaven’s not a place that you go when you die.
It’s that moment in life when you actually feel alive.”

So live for the moment.
Take this advice, live by every word, love is just a hoax,
so forget everything that you have heard.

 

 

There’s three, count ‘em - three - children missing from the beach.
They were eager to learn, to be taught, and to teach.

But the sad thing is that they never lived passed the age of fifteen,
due to neglect from their mother, who was bed ridden by her ex-lover, their father.
She didn’t even notice, or pay much attention as the tide came in and swept her
three into the ocean. Now all her advice, it seems useless.

Well,

Heaven’s not a place that you go when you die.
It’s that moment in life when you touch her and you feel alive.

So live for the moment.
Take this advice, live by every word, love’s completely real, 
so forget anything that you have heard and live for the moment, now.

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Keep Driving Saturday, May 3 2008

That little speck of pixels, holding the guitar, on that small stage, surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of people at The Great Salt Air…I use to be friends with him. His name is John Allred, you might know him as a musician, as just Allred. If not, why the hell are you reading this, right now? Go download something and listen to him. He was one of those people who wanted to play music his entire life. He was going to make it, whether it killed him, or not. Most people call it quits when they discover they can’t get signed within the first try. Johnny didn’t quit. He started off with an amazing first album called Some Place New, which I have one of the few original copies of. He’s up to six incredible albums and the seventh comes out May 9th. That little speck of pixels up there, he use to be bigger than that, playing for as much people as that front row of hundreds. He made it and I could not be more proud of anyone I’ve ever known.

It just goes to show that dreams, goals, plans - they can come true. You just have to put in a little more than some elbow grease to get there. Some commitment, some passion, some work harder than you’ve ever worked. You can’t get there in a week, you have to be passion enough to devote your life to it. I look up to anyone and everyone whose ever done something like this. Those people are the real heroes.

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Wake Up Sunday, Apr 27 2008

My real estate, my life is dull and dried up like the sound a voice makes when the heart grows cold…and its going that way. I think I’ll move out of state, somewhere far from Seattle’s city lights, they burn my eyes. California sounds nice, but California is a lie. Maybe I’m out of luck, or maybe I’m just blind. Rain on my hopes, rain on my soul, rain on everything that I know. It feels so ludacris, the pursuit of this dream.

We thought we’d be there long ago.

Do we just exist? And does love persist? The questions of purpose and love and of destiny. Our conquest for bliss is as much hit or miss as it is skimming the fat off of our beliefs. If grace knows my name, then I am to blame for constantly spreading my fear and my shame.

I left you a note on the table, I hope it finds you well. I hope you don’t hurt like you did, cause I’d just blame myself. And I know its for me, that I’m out on these streets, bleeding nightly for these people I meet. But its you who I long for when I cannot sleep. I am almost nowhere and I’m getting there fast. You’re the hope in my cold stare. When I picked up, you broke into tears. I still don’t know why you need me and my broken down love. With each second that ticks, your voice rings in my ear and the memories flood back from all of our years. And I tell you its ok, there’s nothing to fear and I secretly hope I am right. You left me last week and you told me, “Go on and follow your dreams.” I think about that, lately, still don’t know what it means. Because you’re what I dream of when I wake alone, as I drift away as we talk on the phone.

You’re what I want and that’s all that I know.

I don’t know much, but I know about love and how it hurts me to give up. Why do we always say we’re fine, when its obvious we’re lying? Why don’t we ever tell the truth, what do we have to lose?

I’ve got a bad taste in me. Its like I’ve been robbed of something I once was in my childhood memories. Its buried in sandboxes, backyard, where we used to see that dreams could come true if believed. The sidewalks scream our names, but now we are so far from home. I’ve got a bad pain in my heart. Its like the first time that I looked in your eyes. The first time it all fell apart. All I have is words, to which I’m a slave. I scribble them down, hoping they’ll save me, but I’m lost, I’m so lost. These pages will burn and I’ll pass away. Yesterday’s gone and I just can’t shake the fact that I’m lost. I’m so lost.

We are so far from home.

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